Come on with the rain, I've a smile on my face!

Sitting there, alone in a foreign country, far from my job and everyone I know, a feeling came over me. It was like remembering something I'd never known before  or had always been waiting for, but I didn't know what. Maybe it was something I'd forgotten  or something I've been missing all my life. All I can say is that I felt, at the same time, joy and sadness.  But not too much sadness, because I felt alive. Yes, alive.  That was the moment I fell in love with Paris. And I felt Paris fall in love with me.  - Paris, Je t'aime

I can't tell you how many times I've started blog entries over the past ten days without finishing them.  Sometimes, I've simply uploaded a photo, saved the entry ... And promptly discarded it.  The truth is, I am a little short on words at the moment.  For someone keeping a blog entitled Cherchant le Mot Juste, I'm not doing a terrific job of it.  Paris leaves me speechless, that's all.  
After two months of living here, I am still in awe of everything that I encounter in this incredible city.  Today I sat at a café near my school, eating a pain au chocolat and drinking a petit café.  Even the most mundane activity, such as sitting at a café and people watching during some precious free time, fills me with the utmost pleasure.  Despite my best efforts to look and act parisienne most of the time, I can't help but smile when I see a man walking by eating a baguette that's tucked under his arm... Followed by a woman chewing a croissant and smoking a cigarette ... Followed by a child with chocolate smeared all over his happy little French face.  Scenes like these are what I will miss most.
Perhaps I'm wrong about that though.  Perhaps what I'll miss most is turning off my computer every night, bidding bon soirée to my coworker and to my boss, and turning the corner away from my office to the banks of the Seine, the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower catching my eye as I rush to board the metro.  I pinch myself during moments like these, which occur more frequently than I can believe.

My rainy walk home from work on Monday night.

It's time to admit to something here.  It is cliché and silly, and it's almost impossible to describe.  The few sentences from Paris, Je t'aime with which I began this entry are the most applicable I can think of, and the closest I can come to capturing the feeling I've had lately.  To be brief, all I know is that the feeling that I have while I'm here is not one that can be found in the Streets of Philadelphia,  as wonderful and comforting as they are.  I'm not finished with Paris yet, and my remaining thirty-two days won't change that sentiment-- I'm certain.  Taking a walk around the very wet, very rainy, and very very windy Luxembourg Gardens the other day, my heart swelled.  Even at its worst, Paris is the best.  Little pieces of history and art are everywhere in Paris, and a little (or a lot) of rain can't detract from the incredible value of stumbling upon these moments.

Just outside my apartment on one particularly blustery morning, the Canal St.Martin.

Tuileries Gardens

Palais du Luxembourg, the seat of the Senate

Enough dreamy reflection.  I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful visit from my mother this past weekend.  A seasoned Parisian tourist, she was content to sit on café sidewalks and walk through the rainy streets for as long as it took for us to catch up.  There are some things that Paris doesn't offer me, and the comforts of home and family make up a huge portion of that.  We talked, we ate, and we ate.  It was so nice to see her in real life, rather than the rather grainy Skype-y image that I've become so used to.

Quelle parisienne!

Windy rainy day outside the Louvre.

As you may have guessed from the rain in every single picture posted, the weather in Paris has been atrocious-  Today was the first time it was really sunny in more than eight days.  My mother was a trooper however, like the true Irishwoman she is she braved the horrible rainy wind all the way from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe.  Bravo, maman.  She is now nestled away at our house in the Loire valley, where she will shortly be joined by her sister, and then my sister next week.

Speaking of my sister, my fabulous ginger-haired seventeen year old sister is coming to paris oh-so-soon!  Finished with her college applications (I have never felt more old), she arrives in Paris on Saturday morning.  I am so excited to be silly with her like only sisters can, though I know that we will both be missing our older sister Sinéad.  Sinéad returns home from South Africa in a matter of weeks, which is incredible since she's been there for the year.   Seeing Megan this weekend will make me a million times more excited for Christmas, when all five members of my family will be together again at last (aw).

My job, incidentally, is fabulous.  It is a dream come true.  I'm getting some really great experience, I'm speaking French, and I can see the Eiffel tower from the office window.  The work can be really challenging, but my boss is really kind and eager to help me-- you'll be glad to hear I'm not stuck in a Devil-Wears-Prada-boss-from-hell scenario.   Though she probably does wear Prada.  After two weeks at work, my fingers are thoroughly confused, as they are now bilingual and can use French OR American keyboards ... They just can't really keep them straight.  There is only one other girl in the office with me, and she has been so friendly and kind to me.  She even invited me to a soirée at her friends' apartment last week!  It was a fantastic night, and though I was by far the youngest, with the closest in age being 28, her friends were incredibly warm and welcoming.  It was a night I won't soon forget.  

With visits from my nearest and dearest coming from the States, Europe, and even from Africa over the next 5 weeks, I know that time will fly.  But I know also that no matter how quickly or slowly time goes, I will still board that plane in 32 days feeling like a piece of me is staying behind.  And do you know what the very best part about that is, mes chers amis? That only means that I will have to come back to retrieve it, some day. xo

Grèves & Gastronomie

France is on the verge of imploding, or at the very least that how it seems to me at present. Aside from constant terrorism threats resulting in evacuation of popular areas in the city, the French are currently infuriated at the proposed amendments to the laws concerning national retirement age.  The French president, M. Sarkozy, has proposed changing the retirement age in France from 60 to 62, and the French people are not pleased.  Strikes (grèves, in French) are occurring all over the country, in various sectors.  High schoolers, college students, and of course those approaching retirement age have been turning out in the streets en masse, attempting to change Sarkozy's mind.  Not only does this mean that I keep running into demonstrations at the most inconvenient times, but the reverberations of the strike are being felt on many levels.  Students are blockading their high schools and universities, the metro here in Paris has been running inconsistently, national train services have been interrupted, and major oil refineries are closed.  Oil refineries is the biggest bummer, currently, as my planned vacation beginning on Saturday is dependent upon the planes at Charles de Gaulle having enough fuel to fly... I'm glad to experience this part of French culture, bien sur, but if the strike means that I won't be able to go home to Ireland on Saturday afternoon as planned, I am going to be a very unhappy camper.

Huge demonstration at the Place de la Bastille...  Reminiscent of the techno parade!

Grèves aside, this coming week is my last week of classes at BU, which means I have final exams on Friday.  It's incredible to think that the halfway point is already upon me, but more than being incredible it's really pretty scary.  I feel like I need to kick my derrière into high gear, so I don't fly home with any "I wish I'd done..." thoughts floating through my head!

Adorable French kids racing around a mini track beneath the Eiffel Tower.
Aren't the leaves pretty?

The other evening I left my apartment after having spent the whole day in its cozy confines, surrounded by tissues and vitamin C pills, and I walked north towards the Belleville neighborhood.  I was keen to do a bit of discovering, as time is slipping so quickly away.  Belleville was interesting-  it had a totally different vibe from the rest of the city.  After finding an awesome gift that I plan to send to  my sister Sinéad, I was feeling pretty happy with myself.  On top of the satisfaction of happening upon the perfect present, I was lucky enough to pick up a piping hot baguette  from my boulangerie on the way home -- and, just because I was feeling just a bit sorry for my sneezy self, a tartelette aux framboises.  It was more delicious than I could ever have imagined.  At times like this I feel particularly convinced that the best parts about life in Paris are the small things-  hot baguettes and perfectly sweet desserts not excluded.

This blurry iPhone photo doesn't begin to serve justice to this deliciousness.

I spent the past weekend in Rouen, a city in Normandy.  It was a glorious change of pace from Paris, it felt like a small town though it's really fairly sizeable.   The best part was experiencing a food festival that lasted the duration of my visit-  Streets overflowing with vendors willing to give free samples of traditional cuisine from Normandy.  Lots of seafood, honey, cheese, jam and foie gras... (I'd be lying if I said I didn't sneak a bite or two of foie gras... Shh!)  It was really an awesome time to be in Rouen.  The city was chilly, but we bravely tromped through several intense rain storms yesterday and we faced harsh winds all day today, visiting the famous Cathedral and the spot where Jeanne d'Arc was burned at the stake.  The spot, by the way, is a huge pile of dirt with a tiny commemorative sign.  Bizarrely understated.

Pain des épices, jam, honey.

Inside of the old abbey in Rouen

Andouillette sausage cooked in cider with onions.

I've been trying my hardest to fight off an approaching cold.  Aside from the general woes this brings, I've been struggling with the difficulties of blowing my nose with its new piercing!  Not the best timing for a cold.  On top of the approaching sickness, I've been sleeping horrendously.  My sleep pattern has been frequently interrupted since I've been here; I'll attribute it to a combination of my silly decisions to stay out far too late and the still unfamiliar noises of Paris at night.  (Read: Michael Jackson's greatest hits randomly floating through the air on a Thursday night)  It's nothing too concerning, it's more just an irritation.  I think there is nothing worse than lying awake at 4 in the morning feeling utterly convinced you will never sleep again!
Though I will be sad to leave Paris this coming Saturday, I'm looking forward to some vacation time.  I'll be in Ireland, Spain, and England.  Lots of family and friend time, which I think I'll be needing especially after this upcoming week at school.  Two months from tomorrow, I will be meeting my family at Philadelphia airport, for what will probably be a very tearful reunion.  I'm looking forward to the day, as I miss them each intensely, but I'm sad to see my time slip so quickly.  I can tell already that this is one of the most incredible experiences of my life.  Halfway over already?  That hardly seems fair!  But ne vous inquiétez pas, chéris.  I plan to make the most of it. xo

A Techno Parade, An Internship, & Some Macarons.

If there is, by any slim chance, anyone who has been waiting with bated breath for my latest update-- I owe you a big fat apology.  It's been almost two weeks since I've written, and that simply won't do since I'd promised myself I would try to blog once a week.  It's just that I'm just a tiny bit lazy, and it seems a lot easier to put off updating rather than just sitting down and doing it.  So now, here I am, sitting down and... well, doing it.
To beat a dead horse completely and thoroughly, I can't believe how quickly my time is disappearing.  I have only three weeks of classes left, an event which marks the halfway point of my semester.  It's unbelievable to think that I'm almost halfway finished here, I can already sense how unready and heartbroken I will be to leave on December 18.
Big things have been happening in my neck of the woods, I'm pleased to report.  I had an interview on last Monday morning with my potential internship maitresse.  I traveled to Trocadero, biting my nails the whole way as I thought about what was to come.  My interview was to intern at a small international law firm located just across the river from the Eiffel tower (the commute involves traveling by metro over a bridge, where I can casually take in a stupendous view of the tower and river).  The firm deals mainly with business law but also has some cases involving tax law and medical malpractice.  The only thing of all of these that was familiar was tax law- thanks to my time at the Villanova Law Clinic I've spent more time on the United States IRS website than I care to admit to, so I have some kind of experience in tax law.
Anyway, after awkwardly waiting on a bench in the rain for twenty minutes, I met my maitresse and we had our interview.  The woman is lovely, the office is gorgeous-  Just two or three rooms with two people working quietly.  The best news, however, is that the interview was a success, and I've consequently signed my convocation to begin interning with the law firm on November 2.  I'm thrilled, and I would be giving you more concrete information with links to websites and all I'm just not sure how much I'm allowed to talk about it.  Rest assured, chers amis, that it is a fantastic opportunity in a gorgeous location with a lovely maitresse.  I'm looking forward to starting in November, I can't wait to see what I'll learn from my time as an intern.
Now that my big news has been told, I can get to the interesting and fun stuff.  Last Saturday my friends and I headed over to the left bank in search of something we'd heard of called a Techno Parade.  I didn't really know what it was, but it sounded like something I could get into so I donned my finest tie-dye tshirt and set off with a big group of friends to see what we could find.  It didn't take long to hear the pounding bass and screaming fans of the Techno Parade.  It was, essentially, a big huge parade of people dancing, punctuated with massive buses pumping out techno beats.  We were so happy, it looked like so much fun, so we jumped on in.  It was unforgettable.  We danced in the streets of Paris for five hours, following the parade all the way to Place de la Bastille where it ended.  I danced, I sang, I screamed, I climbed on bus stop shelters and hopped the fence of the monument at Bastille.  It was one of the most adrenaline-infused and incredible experiences of my life.  I don't even have the words to give it any justice at all, so I won't really try.  It was just completely awesome, so exciting and such an energetic atmosphere.  It was also very tiring, and I have more bruises still than I've had ever in my life-- And for those of you who realize my bruising tendencies, that is really saying something.  All so worth it though, vive la techno!

So many people!

I don't even like techno...

Storming the Bastille, pt. 2.  This resulted in a lot of bruises,
but I'm just glad we left before the police teargassed the crowd...

I got to see my Dad twice over the past week, which was an awesome treat.  He had been traveling for business in Germany and so he stopped by in Paris for the night last Friday and then again this Thursday.  It was super to see him, it's so much fun to show people the little life I've created for myself here.  He's by no means a Paris amateur, but it was still nice to show him what spots I like the most.  We had some really fantastic meals together, too, it was such a treat to go out to restaurants and enjoy someone else's cooking.  I love to cook but eating out at restaurants is a lot more relaxing! Dad's also a total language dweeb like me, so we spent a lot of time attempting to one-up each other by showing off how many useful little phrases we each know.  Even though I'm the one that lives here, I think he's still got me beat.  Dads always know the most, somehow.

Macarons and tea at La Durée with Dad, yum.

Wine and cheese before dinner (!?) with Dad.  Also yum.

This past Friday I went on a field trip with my Art History class to Metz, where we had a  guided tour of the newly built and gorgeous Georges Pompidou center .  The museum is beautiful, with some really fantastic pieces inside, but our visit was unfortunately unbearably long.  It's nice to get out and about and to see some of the art work that we learn about in class, but asking thirty exhausted 20 year old American students to spend three and half hours listening to a French guided tour of modern art....?  It was completely fatigant.  The city of Metz is gorgeous, and is home to a fantastic and awe-inspiring cathedral.  It was nice to be a tourist again, but I did miss Paris and was glad to return that evening, even though it was dreary and we were all exhausted.  I spent a wild Friday night cooking a garlic-infused meal with my friend Becca, and was so glad to get to sleep.

"The Mona Lisa is in the stairwell."

Crazy optical illusion windows.  Metz cathedral seems so close from this end of the room...

But once you get closer, it shrinks!

Last night in Paris was Nuit Blanche.  There was a lot going on in the city, with art installations all over the place and museums open to the public and things of a similar nature, but due to some sort of plan fail my group of friends got awfully separated and we didn't end up seeing any decent amount of art at all.   We were all still a bit tired, I think, so staying up all night was not the best idea in the first place, in combination with the fact that we completley missed the point of Nuit Blanche.  I'm kind of disappointed that we didn't get to see more stuff, because it sounds like there was some great offerings, but I guess it's only one missed opportunity and there will be plenty more later.  What we did see was incredible though- a big installation on city hall which commanded in several languages Love the Differences.  It was very cool.

Love the Differences

This week is a tough one in school, I've got a few presentations and papers which are stressing me out quite a bit.  Hopefully I will get through it, one way or the other.  Though I only have to get a C to get Villanova credit for the semester, my inner-nerd (my outer-nerd too!) has trouble settling for a C.  I just have to keep reminding myself that there are only three weeks left of classes-  That is hardly even enough time to get stressed!  At the end of these three weeks I'm jet setting a little bit, visitng friends and family across Europe, so if I DO get stressed, I at least have that to look forward to.

Reminder to self: happiness can be as simple as good friends, bad wine,
a French board game, and the Seine at night time.

My host parents and housemate were gone all weekend, so it was just me and Pilou, the cat... but he hid from me all weekend, unfortunately.  Kim  is back now, after spending the weekend in Switzerland, and I'm still waiting for my host parents to return from their country house.  I'm looking forward to having them home-- Even if it's not my house, it's nice to have the noise and energy of a family to fill this apartment.
I want to try and get out and about in the city more this week, though perhaps its not the best week to try and do so.  Paris feels like it's on the brink of something these days, when I step outside in the morning cold weather smells just a little bit closer every day.  I can't wait for the leaves to change and fall, it will be so beautiful.  Well, Paris is always beautiful, but it will be something new and different and exciting.  I look forward to it immensely, and I will of course share it with you all.  Until next time!  xo

Petit Par Petit

A new French phrase that I've picked up in the past week makes the title of this entry, and the best part for you is that the English translation is wonderfully direct.  Petit par petit-- little by little.
Little by little, I'm finding my niche here, in my cozy apartment on my little street in Paris.  I'm beginning to find routine, something that I value intensely as I am a person of habit.  I like the same things, over and over again (I am the type of person that is content to eat an identical breakfast each morning... Two eggs, over easy, on multigrain toast.  Thanks.)
I've figured out that when I stop by my local boulangerie most days, I prefer to ask for une tradition rather than asking for une baguette.  Even better than that, I have learned that I can even ask for une demi-tradition!  That way, I only eat half a baguette every day rather than the entire thing.  I'm not ashamed ... I'll chalk it up to cultural immersion and return to my eggs and multigrain toast immediately upon re-entering the states.  Incidentally, bread is one of the simple joys of French existence.
It is incredible that I've been in Paris for almost two weeks now, a full twelve days!  It's true, what they say, about how time flies when you spend a semester abroad.  With almost two weeks under my belt, there remain only fourteen more.  It is depressing to talk too much about it, but I can't believe how quickly my time is slipping from me already.
Last Sunday, with my reusable shopping bag in tow, I headed to the marché at the Place de la Bastille.  As I left the gloomy Metro passageways behind me and re-surfaced at the site where, hundreds of years before, the French people had stormed the Bastille as part of their revolution, I totally geeked out.  I really love history; I considered a history major in college and in particular went through a phase of intense appreciation for French history.  After I pinched myself, remembered that this was real, that I was actually living in Paris, I headed towards the market.  (And by that I mean I typically went the complete wrong direction, and spent ten minutes attempting to find the largest outdoor market in Paris.  Some things, my dear friends, never change.)
If my experience arriving at Bastille was a history freak-out, my arrival at the market itself brought on a freak-out of another kind entirely.  FOOD FREAK-OUT.  Oh, my God.  Rotisserie chicken, the smell of which could ellicit a watering mouth from even the staunchest vegetarians.  Fresh cheese, fruit, vegetables, exotic olives and spices whose names I didn't even recognize.  I'm almost weak at the knees even now at the memory of it, the smells of a hundred different vendors selling a thousand different things and the sounds!  Ugh, the sounds!  Vendors calling out their produce, hoping to entice anyone from the sneaker-wearing guidebook-toting American tourists to the quick-paced and focused Parisian regulars.  

No, but seriously.  How good does this all look?

How can I not geek out?

I won't give in yet, I won't eat the chicken... But those
potatoes at the bottom are seducing me, petit par petit.

The market was incredible, more awesome than I know how to convey through a silly blog post.  For a wannabe foodie, like myself, it is heaven.  I was a little unsure of how much produce to get, because I wasn't sure of the measurements and how much time I'd have to cook etc., but for future reference:  ordering 1 kilo of green beans is an atrocious overestimate for one person.  I asked the vendor to put half of them back, and I still have green beans coming out of my ears, six days later.  I can't complain though.  The food is fresh, and most importantly it's cheap.  French supermarkets can be really expensive (read: I paid two Euros for a single apple the other day), so it was a pleasant change of pace to get market quality veggies at an awesome price.  The Most Valuable Player award goes to the goat cheese I picked up.  I asked for the cheapest at the fromagerie stand, but ... Ooooh, la la.  It is the most fantastic thing.  It's more accurate to say it WAS the MVP, I should say, since I polished off the last of it tonight with some delicious five Euro (from the market!) Bordeaux.

All of this for less than 25 Euros.  I will talk about Parisian markets forever.

Aside from the triumph that was the market on Sunday morning, this past week has been just a little stressful.  I started my classes on Monday, and the workload seems to be pretty intense.  For each of my three classes I have a ten minute oral presentation to make, a three page paper to write, and a final test.  Not to mention small written assignments due at each class session, mandatory trips to museums and other landmarks, and two 2.5 hour sessions a week!  It's all en francais, but to be honest the language hasn't been a problem for me.  I'm so grateful now that I worked hard at learning French, because to keep up with this heavy workload while trying to decipher half of what my teachers are saying would be almost impossible.  Even with my language comprehension, the next seven weeks are going to be challenging for sure.  I'm attempting to find balance now between spending time with friends at night and getting my work done.  A challenge in itself, but unfortunately for me this study abroad experience is not "party abroad," or whatever other people's experiences might have been.  I'm glad for it, because I'm a total nerd, but I'm anxious as well.

One of my assignments for my language class was a découvert du quartier, a discovery of a neighborhood.  A classmate and I set out to explore the St Germain des Prés area, and had quite a pleasant surprise.  We came across the most fantastic tea-room, situated neatly on the left bank.  Check out this picture, how cool is this?  Shelves upon shelves of tea, and the smell in this place was also incredible.

If I had but world (read: money) enough and time, I
would have spent hours here.

Once more, during my time exploring the St Germain neighborhood, I had to perform a quick reality check.  When I turned around and saw THIS:

Typically Parisian and beautiful.

Speaking of typically Parisian, or perhaps more accurately typically French, there was a strike on Tuesday.  If there is one thing the French universally love, it is not wine.  It is not even cheese.  It is going on strike.  As a result of the strike, which was over the national retirement age, the metro service on Tuesday was not as frequent as it usually is.  I was so glad that my iPhone chose Tuesday to turn off in the middle of the night!  It was really awesome that I therefore had no alarm on Tuesday morning, and therefore did not wake up the planned two hours earlier than usual to avoid metro troubles.  Thankfully, I woke up early enough that I made it on time to class on Tuesday morning.  I've never been more glad that the walls in this apartment are paper thin; it was my housemate's alarm clock that woke me.  The metro was so hot and crowded, like very sweaty and ticked off sardines crammed in a can.

This picture hardly captures the chaos,
but I was sweaty and eager to get out of the Metro.

After five hours of class on Tuesday, I went for a very tiring bike ride on the left bank, foolishly forgetting the strike and thinking I could easily head home on the metro.  That was, needless to say, false.  After waiting about 30 minutes for a train that was packed with disgruntled Parisians (a nightmare), I got out as close to my stop as I could.  I walked closer and closer to Place de la République, where I live, and heard a curious and unrecognizable din.  Oh!  Silly me!  Une manifestation.  Not only do French people love to strike, they love to PROTEST!  Actively!  Loudly!  In massive crowds!  And, apparently, right in my neighborhood.  After my long and stressful day, I wasn't in much of a mood to throw elbows at Parisians on strike, but alors I had no choice.  I did make it home, and I had a delicious meal (quelle surprise!) to comfort myself.

Not the most soothing of situations for the stressed American soul.

Today, after a meeting about internship placement at the BU Center this morning, two girls from my program and I headed to the Marais for falafel!  Spontaneously dubbed FALAFEL FRIDAY!, it is a habit I could certainly get used to with ease.

Yes, there is hot sauce on there.
Yes, I came dangerously close to passing out in joy.

Tonight I've passed a quiet evening in the coziness of my room, eating soup and enjoying the calm that is a weekend night spend in.  The weekend is supposed to be beautiful, and I plan on taking full advantage of the good weather while it lasts!  I look forward to a new market tomorrow morning, near the Champ du Mars, and some good times with good friends for the rest of the weekend. This week I have survived my classes successfully, braved my first experience with Parisian strikes, and eaten the most delicious and wonderful food.  I can't wait to see what I learn next week, every day in Paris teaches me something I didn't know before.  This post was long, too, but even if no one is still reading I look forward to looking back to this blog some day and letting my mouth water a little over what I experienced when I was twenty years old in Paris.  Until next time, mes chers amis. xo

P.S.!  Oh no!  In re-reading what I've written, it is long and almost entirely food-centered, and I suspect that makes for dull reading for you all.  I'll try to chill out with the food theme... but I can't help it!  My life here is food-centered!  Just be thankful you're not my parents, who receive about 4-5 pictures per day of my every meal ...